


Reigniting

by Gia279



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Protective Stiles, Spark!Stiles, Sterek Secret Santa 2018, psychic Stiles, siblings!Allison and Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 10:45:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: "Humans don’t come to you for their real futures. They just want to hear that things are going to be alright, or get better for them.” Allison walked around the table and sat across from him. She frowned. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she said cautiously. “There are other-”“No way.” He crossed his arms. “If they won’t have both of us, then they don’t get me.” He cracked a grin. “They only get the awesome spark if they get his sister, too.”Allison rolled her eyes. “We’re not actually-”Stiles grabbed her hand, lining up the matching scars on their palms they’d made when they were twelve. “We are, too. The bond of the blood pact is not easily broken,” he said solemnly. “Where I go, you go.”





	Reigniting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totaltrashmammal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totaltrashmammal/gifts).



> This was so fun to write; hopefully I will have time later to expand on this fic. I feel like it reads really rushed D: But it was super fun to write. <3

Stiles squirmed in his seat, trying to keep his face blank as he searched the future for the man whose hands he was holding. “I see…several possibilities for you,” he said delicately. “The most prominent look promising.” 

“What’s that mean?” the man snapped.

He sighed. “I see money in your future.” Flashes of red behind his eye lids almost made him cringe; he held his face still. “Enough to make you the envy of your neighbors.” 

The man snickered in delight. “Alright, that’s more like it. What else?”

 _Blood and fire and mayhem and destruction._ The man was on a downward spiral, and the money was only going to make it worse. “I see you making good choices. You shouldn’t brag to the wrong people.”

“Ha,” he scoffed. “Like who?”

Stiles squeezed his hands and leaned forward, eyes flashing open. “Like your neighbors, you dolt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped. “What, I can get rich but I can’t tell anyone about it?” He ripped his hands out of Stiles’s. “Freak.”

“Hey, I just call it like I see it. You either keep your mouth shut, or someone else is going to shut it for you, _and_ take your money.”

The man sneered. “I want my money back.”

Stiles smirked. “Sorry. No refunds.” He tapped the handmade sign on his table.

The man clenched a fist and stepped forward. 

Allison stepped out of the back, one hand casually resting on the hunting knife in her belt. “Hey, there. Problem?”

“Who’re you?”

“The manager,” she said dryly. “No refunds. Leave or be escorted out.”

The man looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed. His face turned deep, brick red, as if he were considering pushing it.

Stiles rubbed his fingers together under the table, shoulders tensing.

“Screw this,” the man muttered, turning on his heel and crashing out of the little trailer.

Allison blew out a breath. “Stiles! I thought we agreed _not_ to piss off any more customers!”

“He was an ass, and he was going to get himself killed. I was just trying to warn him,” he mumbled, slumping in his seat. 

“Yeah, but humans don’t come to you for their real futures. They just want to hear that things are going to be alright, or get better for them.” She walked around the table and sat across from him. She frowned. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she said cautiously. “There are other-”

“No way.” He crossed his arms. “If they won’t have both of us, then they don’t get me.” He cracked a grin. “They only get the awesome spark if they get his sister, too.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “We’re not actually-”

Stiles grabbed her hand, lining up the matching scars on their palms they’d made when they were twelve. “We are, too. The bond of the blood pact is not easily broken,” he said solemnly. “Where I go, you go.”

“Any group of supernaturals would take you in, you know. In an instant.”

“To _use_ me. At least this way, people are paying to use my powers.” He let go of her hand and sat back, frustrated. “Okay, I promise to be good with the next customer. And all day,” he added hastily when she shot him a sharp look. “Just…go in the back and be mystical, or something.”

She snorted and stood up, ruffling his hair on the way past.

“Stop that, you’re ruining the aura of the _divine_.”

“Divine headache,” she muttered, closing the door to her room.

A knock sounded at the front door seconds later.

Stiles smoothed his shirt down and took a breath. “Come in,” he called, rolling his shoulders back.

The two that walked in weren’t regulars, or anyone from in town. They were wearing battered leather jackets and haunted expressions. The woman had long blonde curls and was holding the hand of the man at her side, who stepped inside first. They both had faint silvery sheens in their auras.

Stiles jumped to his feet. _Allison! Wolves!_

She kicked open her door, crossbow ready. “Can we help you, ’wolves?” 

The man put up both of his hands. “We aren’t here to cause trouble.”

“Then why are you here?” Stiles snapped. 

The woman tipped her head. “Why don’t you find out, psychic?” She offered her hand, palm up. There were no claws on her fingertips.

Stiles didn’t move closer. With just one wolf, they were practically outnumbered; two and they ought to be making a run for the back door. He rubbed the fingers of his left hand together. “I don’t think so. You’d better just get on with it,” he added. 

“Get on with what?” she asked. 

The last werewolves who’d visited had tried to bleed Stiles dry for the boost that his magic would give to their alpha. 

Sparks’ powers tended to boost the powers of whatever supernatural creature they were nearest to. It led to some unfortunate encounters; some of them just wanted Stiles’s blood, others figured taking Stiles himself would last them longer than his blood. They were right. All of them went about it in different ways; he preferred the ones who asked, though they weren’t always happy to hear him say _no._

“We need your help,” the man said quickly. “I’m Boyd, this is Erica. We’re pack mates. Our pack is in danger, and our alpha…” He glanced at Erica.

She sighed. “He can’t do it by himself. He thinks he can protect us, but it’s not going to work.”

Allison snorted.

Erica shot her a sharp look.

“We just need help until the threat is gone. We won’t try to hold you forever or anything.”

Stiles didn’t need to touch them to see inside their heads; that was a gimmick for the paying customers who wanted more mysticism. He prodded at their auras with his power, tested at their minds. He couldn’t find a shadow of deceit, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. “Weird that that was the first thing you said,” he commented, to see how they’d respond.

“We’ve heard of people kidnapping sparks,” Erica said quickly. “That’s why we thought we should reassure you.” She looked like she didn’t care how this turned out, her eyes hard, her chin up, but she was afraid, terrified of whatever threat loomed over them that their alpha couldn’t handle.

Stiles glanced at Allison. “If I help you, my sister comes with.”

“Of course.” 

Stiles blinked at them. 

Allison lowered her crossbow a fraction of an inch in surprise. “Where is your den?”

“We-”

The door ripped open, nearly off the hinges.

Stiles stepped back, hand flexing. Flames flickered between his fingers. 

A man stepped in behind Erica and Boyd, dark haired, wearing leather, furious. “What the hell are you doing?” he snarled.

Erica spun around to glare up at him. “What are _you_ doing? You’re supposed to be at home, making sure they don’t get in.” 

“They won’t,” he said stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

“Asking for help, since you won’t! We need it, and you’re going to get us killed by not asking for it.”

“From a _psychic?_ ” He glanced at Stiles dismissively. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“From a _spark._ ”

He snorted. “No. We’re leaving. We don’t need your help,” he added to Stiles, and stalked right back out of the trailer.

Erica shot a look at Stiles like mingled fury and desperation, and chased after him. 

Boyd rubbed his eyes. “He’s stubborn but—he just—we really do need help.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Thanks for your time.” He followed the other two, carefully closing the door behind him.

Stiles glanced at Allison.

She sighed and slung the strap of her crossbow over her shoulders. “I’m sure you can follow their trail at a safe distance.”

“You’re the best.” He started racing around, gathering things he thought he’d need. 

“No, I’m the worst. If I was the best, I’d be making sure we were as far from any werewolf pack or vampire coven as we could be.”

“That’s not true. Those vampires were the most polite out of the whole group.” He yanked a hoodie over his head, then a jacket over that. “Remember the nymphs? Talk about furious.”

Allison shook her head. “Stiles, they could try to keep you. This could all be a trick.”

“They didn’t seem like they were lying. I checked.” He tapped his temple and scooped up his backpack. He frowned at it, then shoved a pair of pants and t-shirts into it. 

“You can be fooled as easily as anyone else, though,” she pointed out. “And why are you packing so many clothes?”

“It’s cold outside!”

“Which is why we should stay here, where it’s warm and safe.” 

He looked at her and shook his head. “Please, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, I do.” She went into her room. Clattering noises followed, making him smile.

He threw the last of his stuff in his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and started the hunt for his hat. He assumed that the pack lived somewhere out of town, which meant a long, cold walk for them. He could warm them up, but he also then ran the risk of being noticed by other supernaturals, looking for a boost. He hesitated, fingers running over the edges of his hat. He could be putting Allison and himself in danger just because he was curious.

The hunted feeling in Erica’s head, the haunted look of Boyd’s aura, made his mind up for him. He couldn’t imagine what would scare a pack of werewolves that badly. He was going. 

 

The walk wasn’t as bad as Stiles had predicted; the werewolves had left a clear—well, clear to any psychic or spark—trail, right out of town. Snow began to fall an hour into their trip.

Allison looked at the sky, sighed, and zipped her coat a little higher. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yep.”

“Like, really sure?”

“Really really.” 

“Alright.” She put her hands in her pockets. “I just—we’ve spent so much time avoiding this kind of situation. What made you change your mind this time?”

“I don’t know. That alpha was kind of a jerk, don’t you think?”

“Yes! So why did you want to help him?”

“Obviously to rub it in his face.”

“You liar.” She shoved him lightly. 

Stiles shook his head. “I guess…because his betas seemed so scared. They’re really afraid of something.” He shrugged. “What’s to say that once the threat to them has finished them off, it doesn’t come to us?”

“True,” she said grudgingly. “Alright. I want you to know I don’t approve. But I’m not letting you go alone,” she added. “So don’t suggest it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He smirked at her. 

The werewolves’ den popped up before he was expecting it; one minute they were following a psychic trail into the woods, the next, there was a two story house rising in front of them. It had a wrap-around porch and several parts of the roof needed repairing, but it didn’t look _too_ bad.

Erica came running out to the porch. She caught herself on the railing. “You came!” She slapped her hands over her mouth, casting a quick, terrified glance behind her.

The alpha stomped out behind her. “ _You_ ,” he snarled. “You’re trespassing.” 

“I’m here to help,” Stiles offered. “Your betas came to me,” he added. “They didn’t feel like you could help them, which I think means you’d better get your shit together and do something that _will_ : let me help you.” 

He bared his teeth.

“Derek, please,” Erica said quietly. “We can’t risk it.”

Stiles examined her aura under the silvery sheen and stiffened. 

Derek glared down at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Yeah, fine. Get in here so I can tell you what’s going on.” He turned his back on them and stomped inside.

Allison glanced sideways at Stiles. _What just happened?_

He lifted his brows. _I think we just witnessed an alpha bending to the will of a pregnant lady._

Allison flinched. “Oh my _god_.” 

“What are you guys doing?” Erica asked.

Stiles shook his head. “Not a thing. Can we come in?”

“Yep.” She waited for them on the porch. “We’ll fill you in once we’re inside. You never know who’s listening,” she added under her breath.

“Oh, I’m sure I do.” Stiles waited for Allison to go inside first. 

“Come on, we can explain.” Erica led the way through the foyer to a living room filled with threadbare furniture and the rest of her pack.

Boyd was seated on the loveseat, waiting for her; there was another man on a recliner, his legs curled up under him as he leaned forward to see the newcomers. There was a middle aged man on the couch, next to a woman a little younger than Erica and Boyd. The alpha stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, scowl foreboding. 

“Well, this is a party,” Stiles said brightly. 

Erica snickered and sat beside Boyd. 

“Sit down,” Derek bit out. 

Stiles lifted his brows and kept standing behind the couch. “I’m good here.”

Allison nodded and stood beside him.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. What do you need to know?”

“I need to know what you’re dealing with.”

“Another werewolf pack,” Erica said quickly, shooting Derek a quelling look. 

Stiles shook his head. “You guys aren’t this freaked out over a territory dispute.”

“They’re all alphas.” Boyd leaned forward. “They attacked Erica a week ago; she nearly died.” He nudged her gently.

She lifted her shirt, exposing long, bright red claw marks, still healing, on her ribs. “I can’t—be in situations like that right now.”

“Because of the baby,” Stiles said absently, and several werewolves lunged at him at once. He threw his hands up, a bubble expanding around himself and Allison; the middle-aged werewolf bounced off it hard, landing on his ass on the coffee table. 

He looked as surprised as anyone else.

“How do you know that?” Derek snarled.

“Her aura, genius. Now if we can all play nice, I’ll put down the shield.” 

Allison scoffed, holding her crossbow in front of her. 

“What do you mean, her aura?” the man on the coffee table asked; he didn’t seem inclined to get up.

“I can tell by your auras that you’re werewolves; the deeper I look, the easier it is to see things about you. Like that the woman on the sofa is your daughter, and that you were an alpha once.” Stiles glanced at Boyd and Erica. “You were both turned, you’re in love, you’re excited and scared about the baby.” He lifted his brows. He glanced at the last man. “Not sure about you.”

He hunched his shoulders and looked away. 

“Fine. Drop the shield, we aren’t going to attack you.”

Stiles let it drop, ignoring Allison’s mental protests. “Now, what does this pack of alphas want from you?”

“Everything,” Erica muttered. 

“They want the power they’d gain from killing us,” Derek explained through his teeth. “So they’re trying to get close enough to do that.” 

Stiles shuddered. “Okay. So we stop them before they can do that.” 

Derek scoffed. 

Allison didn’t look any more enthusiastic about it than he did.

_Have some faith._

_Have some sense,_ she shot back.

He bit down on a smile, but didn’t answer her. 

The group got to work right after that; it was easy, somehow, moving everything to the dining room, where the pack had been doing most of their planning. They showed Stiles how they were keeping the alphas from finding them, the map marking everywhere they’d shown up, and the tiny sachets of magic they’d bought to help them hide. It wasn’t much at _all._

“This is fine,” Stiles said, spreading his hands over the map. His eyes flickered. “They’re getting closer, though. They think they’ve figured out where the house is.” 

“How do you know that?” Derek snapped.

“I can see it.” He held his free hand out, flapping it until he caught Derek’s leather-clad shoulder. He squeezed, digging his fingertips in, and let the vision flow to him. “That’s them, right? That’s the tree we passed on the way here.”

Derek was frozen. “Yeah—yes, that’s them.” He cleared his throat and moved out of Stiles’s grip. He turned to face him. “I’ve heard that sparks boost powers. Does that mean I’ll be stronger?”

“Yep.” 

He nodded and went to the kitchen. 

Stiles shrugged and lifted his hand from the map. “Okay, here’s the plan: we put Erica and Boyd here at the house, and corral the alphas away from the house, toward town, toward us, and defeat them before they can realize the whole pack isn’t present. Thoughts?”

“We are going to die,” Isaac, the man who Stiles still wasn’t sure of, said. 

“No, we aren’t.” Stiles clapped his hands, a flash of fire going out above their heads. “So, who wants to play tag?” 

 

Derek didn’t look particularly happy with Stiles’s plan, but he couldn’t fault him. The biggest surprise, to Stiles, at least, was Allison’s reaction.

“You are _deranged_ if you think I’m staying behind,” she spat. “Where you go, I go, remember? I’m going.”

“Someone has to stay here. The plan was to protect the pregnant lady, remember?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” Erica snapped.

“Oh my gods, I’m literally trying to get you the best body guard ever, and you’re trying to doubt my methods?” he hissed at her. He spun back to Allison. “We need someone here in case something happens.”

“No, I need to be _there_ in case something happens.” 

“You’re the best choice to get them out of here if they get past us, though.” Stiles tilted his head forward, staring into Allison’s eyes. _Trust me. I don’t know why, but I want to protect them. Please._

She scowled. “That isn’t fair.” She threw her hands up. “Fine. But if you get yourself killed, I’m going to be furious.” She pointed at Boyd, then Erica. “In the house, stay away from all the doors and windows. Get to the highest point you can. You still have your healing, right?”

They nodded.

“Then if I give the word, you’re going to have to jump from the window and run for it.” She shook her head, shot Stiles a scared, furious look, and stalked into the house. “Come on. You’re going to have to help me prepare this place.”

Stiles put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Awesome.” He turned to the werewolves he had left. “So, we clear on our roles?” He gestured at Isaac.

He made a face. “I’ll get their attention and lead them toward Malia and Peter…”

“Who will separate them into groups,” Peter drawled. “Though I don’t see the point.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You will. Next.”

“The ones chasing me will follow me back to you,” Peter sighed.

“And I’ll lead the ones following me back to Derek.” Malia crossed her arms. “How is that supposed to work? Aren’t sparks supposed to give werewolves a boost? How is Derek supposed to be stronger if you’re far away?”

“It’s a psychic connection, so I don’t have to be physically near him if I don’t want to be. I can give you,” he said to Derek, “a boost from afar. It’ll work,” he added stubbornly. “I can see it working. Just…don’t get cocky.” He clapped his hands. “Okay. Into position, everyone!” 

Derek caught him before he could split off. “And what are you going to do?”

“What?”

“While you’re giving me a boost to deal with half of the alpha pack, how are you going to deal with the other half? You’re having them led to you.” 

Stiles shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”

Derek set his jaw. “How?”

He wiggled his fingers. “Magic. Go get in position, sailor.” He grinned and turned on his heel, running deeper into the woods. He knew his plan was going to work, because he’d seen the future, and it was everything he could hope for: bright, happy, everyone was alive. He just needed to execute the plan right. 

Isaac shouted something in the distance, and it was on.

The alphas Peter led to Stiles were furious, snapping their teeth and swiping at him. One was a woman with long dark hair and a snarl on her face; the other was a young man whose aura suggested he was off-balance, something was wrong. 

When he drew level with Stiles, Peter turned around and _roared,_ flexing his claws. “Ready, magic man?”

Stiles laughed. “Yep.” He didn’t even have to concentrate very hard to find Derek; it was like his magic already knew who the alpha was, already knew what the future held for them, and flowed toward him like a river. It shot straight for his silvery-red aura, bolstering his strength, giving him speed and stamina and everything he needed to win the fight. It worked both ways; the bond he created in that instant pinged back and forth, strength ebbing and flowing between them. He felt Derek realize what had happened, felt him start to fight with everything he had. 

Stiles rubbed his fingers together in small circles, expanding them with every second, until electricity hopped from finger to finger, sparking along his hands and, eventually between both of them. “Peter, move,” he commanded. 

The woman looked at him, baring her teeth. “Cute,” she snarled.

Stiles rubbed his hands against each other, creating friction, until the sparks between them grew. 

Peter rolled to the left.

Stiles hurled the energy ball at the woman.

It hit her in the chest, throwing her back several feet.

The young alpha watched her go, freezing in place. 

Stiles blew on his fingertips until flames ignited. 

“The trees,” Peter murmured. 

Stiles snapped his fingers. 

The flames melted down his hand and to the forest floor, racing across and up the leg of the alpha. He yelped and stumbled backward, slapping at the flames until he’d fallen over. When the fire reached flesh, he screamed, high and animal. 

The woman was up again. She didn’t seem to care about the fire or her comrade; she simply put her head down and ran at Stiles. 

He braced his legs apart and held his hands up. Above them, the trees bowed toward him, drawn by his magic, and obscured them in branches. 

Twigs snapped and cracked as she fought through them. 

“Well?” Peter barked. “Anything else?”

“I’m thinking!” Stiles wiped his nose on his wrist and looked around. The stench of scorched flesh was almost overwhelming; the alpha was still screaming as he fought the flames that would not go out. “Okay, okay, this is fine.” He curled his fingers inward.

The trees froze momentarily, and then began to shift; the branches shivered and slackened, then slithered toward the alpha, tightening around her like snakes. 

“Sneak!” she shouted. “Fight me like a man!” 

“Uh, no.” He clenched his fists and watched as the branches tightened, growing around her and driving into the ground beneath her feet. They began fusing together, forming a trunk around her. He looked past the tree and released a breath; the fire on the alpha went out, leaving him whole and unharmed. 

He looked at his arms and legs, mouth agape. 

Stiles stepped around the tree, ignoring Peter’s sharp swearing. He held his hand out at the alpha, ignoring it when he shrunk away. He pressed his palm to his head. He followed the thin, insubstantial thread of alpha power to the root of it, and yanked it out.

The werewolf howled, but didn’t lift a hand to fight him off.

“This doesn’t belong to you,” he said flatly. He directed it toward Derek’s end of the bond, felt him acknowledge it, and let go of the werewolf at his feet. “Get out of here. Don’t come back. Make better choices.”

He swallowed and nodded, scrambling to his feet. 

“You let him _go_?” Peter snarled.

Stiles whirled on him. “He’s not an alpha anymore. I think we can handle him if he stupidly decides to come back.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “We should get back to Derek.”

Peter lifted a brow at him and gestured at the still-growing tree. “What about her?”

Stiles looked at it. “Nearly done. She’s fine. She isn’t going anywhere.” He started walking. 

 

Derek had finished the alphas off when they got to him, all but one: a young one that was clearly the identical twin of the one Stiles had syphoned the alpha powers from. 

He did the same to the twin. “Go find your brother and get _far away_ from here,” he ordered, dragging the power from him. He gave it off to Derek again, and stepped away. 

The man scrambled to his feet and ran. 

Stiles turned to face the pack. He grinned weakly and gave them a thumbs up. “Ta-da!” 

Isaac shook his head. “You can just _take_ alpha powers from someone?”

He swallowed. “If they were stolen I can.” 

Isaac relaxed. His aura started warming from icy blue to a warmer, more relaxed blue, as if fear had frozen him solid. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Derek muttered. “I could feel how you were helping me. Thanks.”

Stiles shrugged. “I said I would help.” He crossed his arms. “So I guess I should go get my sister and leave.”

Derek straightened up. “Allison is your sister?”

There was a time when they were young, alone and on the streets, when they would have stammered to explain they weren’t _really_ siblings, had found and adopted each other, but that time was long past. “Yes,” he said, and he meant it. 

He cast a quick, shy smile at him. “Okay. Do you guys want to stay for dinner?”

Peter muffled a laugh.

“He wants to say “do you want to stay forever?”” Malia asked, laughing when Derek glowered at her. 

Stiles laughed. “I think we can figure something out. How do you feel about running psychic readings from your living room? I bet I can get people to pay Isaac to do readings about fifty dollars at _least_.” 

Isaac looked scandalized, then interested. “How? Why?”

“I’ll teach you the ways. It’s easy. All I have to do is tell you what’s actually going to happen in their future, and then you tell them a bright spin on that.” Stiles linked their elbows together. “And I don’t even have to be in the same room.”

 _I thought that was our thing,_ Allison said, sounding amused.

_It’s a family thing._

Derek smiled at Stiles as they walked back to the house, and yeah, they were definitely home.


End file.
